Taxi
by Tursipiel Althins
Summary: Just a little something I thought of. How "Once A Ponzi Time" could've ended if the show was written by Harry Chapin :


Disclaimer: I don't own "In Plain Sight" or its characters. Nor do I own the song "Taxi."

Just something I came up with while writing another fic. Hope you like it. How "Once A Ponzi Time" could have ended, if the show was written by Harry Chapin.

This is the revised version, with a few slight word changes and an extra lyrics section that I didn't have in there before. Hope you like the changes.

And how about some reviews, people? Do I have to beg?

Rated T for language.

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_It was raining hard in Albuquerque,_

_I needed one more drink to make my night._

_But that woman walked in and she called my name,_

_And suddenly, nothing was right._

"Marshall, what are you doing?" said Mary, staring at her slobbering drunk partner as he got his ass handed to him over an internet chess board by an eleven-year-old from the across the globe.

"I'm pl-l-laying chess," Marshall replied, his speech slurred.

"No, you're losing at chess. You never lose at chess." She sounded slightly concerned, and she picked up the almost empty bottle of whiskey.

"She's extremely _wily_," came the drunken response. Mary pulled up a seat next to Marshall's desk and spun him around to face her. He wobbled dangerously in his chair.

_She said, "How are you Marshall?"_

_I said, "How are you, Mare?_

_Through the too many miles,_

_And the too little smiles,_

_I thought you'd always be there."_

"What's wrong with you, Marshall?"

"Well, I'm – I'm drunk. Hey did you know birds can get drunk on fermented berries-es and fly into buildings?" He chuckled a little at the image of a drunken bird splattering against a window.

"I know, but why are you drunk?" She was getting frustrated.

"You wanna know why? I'll tell you – I'll tell you why. It's your fault," he said, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"_My_ fault?" she asked, incredulous. "How is it my fault you stole my whiskey and downed it like a frat boy on Spring Break in Panama?"

"Because." He paused. For a moment, Mary thought that was his entire reason. But it turned out his brain was just taking a moment to slog through the alcohol coursing through his system and think of the words he needed. "Because you're ditching me."

"Ditching you?" Now, on top of annoyed, Mary was legitimately confused.

"You're going off to marry that – that jerk-off has-been baseball Don Quixote guy who looks like he's from…from a shampoo commercial or something or other. I bet he chases windmills…" He trailed off into incoherence.

"Jesus, Marshall, I didn't know you felt that way. Oh, wait, that's right. I don't give a damn what you think about me and Raph." She stood up and brandished the whiskey bottle at him. "I'm gonna marry him. And that's final." She turned away, fighting off tears. She couldn't handle this. Her engagement. Raph moving in. And Marshall, her partner, her best friend…she couldn't bear to look at him. She could see in his eyes…the pain, the heartache, the brokenness. She put the whiskey bottle back in her desk.

_I was so high, I was skying,_

_I was flying, afraid to fall_

_I'll tell you why I'm crying,_

'_Cause I'm dying, aren't we all?_

"Mary, I know you care. And I don't give a damn – a damn – a damn something-or-other what you say about Raph. I know. I can s-see. You don't love him."

He was making less sense by the minute, as the alcohol worked deeper into his system, but those last four words were perfectly clear, the only part of Marshall's speech that wasn't slurred. And they stuck like a knife in Mary's heart. Not because she was hurt that her best friend felt that way, but because it was true. And seeing Marshall like this…but no. She had to go through with this. She couldn't stay with Marshall. It would never be allowed. They worked together. And Raph was a good guy. And besides, it was Marshall, for God's sake. Geeky, lanky, talks-too-much, doofus _Marshall_. She had to get over this. She'd get through it. She could get through anything. After all, she was US Marshall Mary Shannon, right? She had survived fine in that basement, and she'd saved both of their asses in that gas station. She was tougher than this. But still…he was so drunk he wouldn't remember it. There was no one else around to see. So what was the harm? She just had to know for sure.

_It was somewhere in a fairy tale_

_Somewhere where only dreams are_

_She taught me 'bout love in that empty place_

_The lesson didn't go too far_

She walked back to his desk and looked deep into his blue eyes. Before she could think about what she was doing and stop herself, she leaned down to him and let her lips collide with his in a fierce, passionate kiss. Though drunk and sluggish, he still had enough coordination to reach up and put his hand on the back of her neck and pull her closer.

_I've got something inside me_

_Not what my life's about_

_'Cause I've been letting my outside tide me_

_Over 'til my time runs out_

After a moment, Mary pulled back to look at her best friend. His expression was one of mingled shock and confusion, but there was something else there. Something that looked remarkably like –

"I love you," he said. The pure and simple truth of this statement shone through in his eyes, now that he was drunk and vulnerable and all of his usual guards were down.

_A smile seemed to come to her slowly,_

_It was a sad smile, just the same._

Now she knew. She knew she loved him, too. She knew she could never be with him. She stood up straight and walked out the door of the WitSec office. Marshall stared after her, and then he laid his head down on his desk and passed out, a blissful smile on his face.

_Well, another man might have been angry,_

_And another man might have been hurt,_

_But another man never would have let her go._

_That other man's waiting for her._

~Fin~


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